


Postponement

by tazia101



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Graphic But Brief Violence, Internalized Homophobia, Like just a myriad of internalized homophobic ideas, Panic Attacks, There's A Gun? For Some Reason?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22069924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tazia101/pseuds/tazia101
Summary: For many queer people I've talked to, there's a stage of coming out where part of you is fully aware that you're queer, but somehow you postpone consciously recognizing it. This fanfiction is an exploration of how that manages to happen, using the Sanders Sides.aka. Thomas won't stop daydreaming about boys. Roman is more than happy to play along, but the other Sides aren't so sure that it's a good thing.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	1. Logic

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction was originally posted on @knight-in-the-stars, my inactive tumblr blog, in 2018. 
> 
> (If I wrote the same story today, the themes of guilt, repression, and 'the right kind of fantasy' would mean that Remus would play a very interesting role: especially with the way that Thomas still to this day seems to group sexuality in with the 'dark side' of fantasy and creativity)

Years later, Roman can still remember the way it began. 

He can’t remember how old Thomas was, or what subject he was supposed to be studying, but he remembers the daydream at the back of the class. 

While Thomas and Roman had always indulged in daydreams, Roman rarely fully committed to them, especially in school. They were apt to be interrupted and forgotten, so he usually played with whatever Thomas was looking at, using a single prompt to spiral in random directions. 

It was afternoon. Roman can’t remember the titles of the books spread on the desk in front of Thomas, but he remembers how the light streamed through the windows at a sharp angle, tracing brilliant highlights in the blond hair of the boy sitting in front of Thomas. 

_I would like to be friends with him,_ Thomas thought, his eyes catching on the play of light and shadow. 

Roman took his cue and began to spin the daydream, stealing the attention from Logan (who gave him a disapproving look and turned his focus back to the lesson). He searched through Thomas’s memories for anything to use, and found the same boy sitting with friends, playing on a Gameboy and grinning. 

Roman stole the smile and the image of the afternoon sunlight in his hair. He matched them and set Thomas’s bedroom as the background, game controllers in both of their hands and one of Thomas’s favourite games on the screen in front of them. 

He waved a hand and the scene came to life, both boys laughing and jostling shoulders as they competed, thumbs quick on the joysticks, personal space erased by familiarity. Roman touched up details from fragmented memories: the colour of the boy’s eyes, the freckles spotted across his cheeks, the way his lips looked in the summer sun. 

He painted each aspect lovingly and enjoyed Thomas’s attention drifting across each one, making the daydream even more vivid. 

Fully immersing himself in the flow of Thomas’s wandering thoughts, he added pizza to the scene, returned to the game, skipped vaguely through a deep conversation in which they both shared touching secrets, then wound the boy’s sun-streaked hair around Thomas’s fingers, the texture as soft as he could imagine, the unspoken connection as deep as he could desire. Their fingers interlaced, their breaths almost mingled, and Thomas leaned forwards to brush his lips against the boy’s cheek, making him smile and turn-

“That isn’t right,” Logan said disapprovingly, wrenching Thomas’s attention back to himself. “That is a romantic gesture, which should be directed toward girls. You became carried away,” he added, giving Roman a look that allowed no argument. “You only want to be friends.”

Roman nodded, knowing that Logic was right as always, but he pushed the first daydream away with difficulty as Thomas returned to drifting fancies.

Logan’s focus on Roman’s work kept the daydreams carefully aligned with reason: good grades and fun friends and cartoon reruns. 

An odd blip, he thought at the time. A mistake. 

But it wasn't the last time it happened. 


	2. Deceit

Thomas was on the bus, ear buds in and mp3 player resting between his knees. His gaze wandered aimlessly from the passing landscape to the other people sitting around him. The _ding_ of a stop request filtered through his music, and he watched an older woman make her way to the doors and step out. 

Behind her, a boy was getting on the bus, with bright-dyed hair and a tattoo creeping up one arm. 

“Whoa,” said Roman, leaning forward to see better through Thomas’s eyes. 

“So cool,” sighed Patton, resting his chin on his palm and gazing dreamily. “Thomas should get a tattoo.” 

“ _You’re staring_ ,” hissed Anxiety from behind them, making the other two jump in surprise. Thomas immediately ducked his head to focus on his hands, rubbing the pads of his thumbs together and trying not to look visibly bothered, even as Anxiety continued. 

“He probably noticed, he’ll think you’re weird. You could never pull off a tattoo like that, you’re never going to be cool. You made him feel uncomfortable, I bet he gets stared at all the time and now he’s mad at you.” 

Anxiety had appeared several months ago and made himself at home. Roman hated the way that he affected all of them. While they didn’t quite have the feeling of sharing a single body, per say, they were undeniably linked. Right now Thomas’s racing heart felt like a frightened bird in Roman’s chest, and besides, Anxiety’s pessimism was driving him _crazy._

“Give it up, Padme Amygdala,” he snapped. “He didn’t see Thomas staring, and I bet he would have taken it as a compliment if he did.” He pushed an image of the boy towards Thomas, a fantasy where Thomas had met his eyes and they shared a smile. 

Encouraged, Thomas lifted his gaze from his hands back to the bright-haired boy. 

_Indeed,_ Roman reflected, glad for the second look, _just as gorgeous from this angle._

Together, they enjoyed a full three seconds of aesthetic enjoyment before the boy’s eyes flicked up to meet Thomas’s. 

“Smile!” Roman instructed eagerly, at the same time as Anxiety snapped, “look down, now!” 

Thomas managed a little smile, then directed his eyes back to his mp3 player, fiddling vaguely with the buttons without actually changing anything. 

“Look up again,” Roman urged. “Did he smile back? I want to know if he smiled back!” 

“ _No_ ,” Anxiety growled, jamming his hands into his pockets and giving Roman a hostile look. Roman met his gaze and lifted his chin, a clear challenge. While the two of them silently battled, Thomas raised his eyes quickly, sneaking a quick look before turning back to his mp3 player.

“He’s smiling!” Roman enthused, giving up the staring contest with Anxiety to gloat. “He thinks I’m cute.”

“He thinks that _Thomas_ is cute,” Logan corrected from across the room. 

“Same difference,” Roman huffed, gesturing at his own face. “He thinks _we’re_ cute. Look at him!” He pulled up the image to show the others. He had been shyly smiling down at his lap, the soft expression contrasting with the harsh lines of his tattoo. “So cute,” whispered Roman, lingering. With Thomas, he drifted over the memory and found dreams clinging to every detail. 

A dream of touching that bright hair. Tracing the lines of the tattoo, then the muscles underneath. Desire, Roman’s second function, flushed their cheeks and brought the image even closer to touch, two bodies in an embrace, but closer than even that, chest against chest, with familiarity in the touch-

The external world broke in as the stop request bell went off again, and Thomas straightened up. Roman was shaken out of the daydream, pouting. 

_Not a daydream,_ he realized as he looked around at the others, saw their cheeks burning like his own, their eyes still hazy. _A fantasy._ But they had never- he hadn’t- their first fantasy? About-

“That didn’t just happen,” stated a voice from behind them. 

The four sides snapped to attention, facing the newcomer. He emerged from the darkness bordering the room, bowler hat tipped down and shading his face. “Thomas didn’t just think that.” 

“No,” agreed Roman, and it was the only explanation he could think of. 

“But he-“ Logan started, and the stranger’s eyes flashed to him. Logan’s mouth shut as though it had been clamped, cutting off the words. Roman watched the other Side struggle, fingers scratching across his closed lips like he was trying to tear them apart. The newcomer in the bowler hat lifted his head at last, letting them all see the mismatched sides of his face, the scales glittering across his cheekbone. 

“Deceit,” Anxiety said flatly. When Roman glanced at him, he was standing defensively, his feet spread as though he was preparing to fight. 

“Who?” the newcomer asked, blinking innocently, and flicked a finger. Logan’s mouth opened again and he gasped at the air, hands fluttering around his throat as he sucked in desperate breaths. “What just happened?” Deceit asked him, tilting his head. 

“Nothing,” Logan asserted, running a hand around his lips as if to check them for damage. “A mistake, if anything. Nothing more.” 

Roman nodded. It was a mistake, like before. If it had been anything. Which it hadn’t been, anyways. Not worth thinking about or holding onto. 

“No,” Anxiety said, stepping forward. “Something is wrong. That was weird. There’s something going on and I don’t know what but it’s different and it’s wrong and it _happened_.” He advanced on Deceit with desperate eyes, his hands open as if in supplication. “Something is wrong,” he said again, and the panic in his voice made Roman straighten up and listen. 

Deceit calmly raised a yellow-gloved hand as Anxiety came toward him, then pushed it forward. Anxiety crouched as if he were preparing for a blow, but for a moment nothing happened. 

Then he was launched backwards, sliding across the floor. He managed to regain his footing, teeth gritted. His sweater blew back as if a hurricane had descended, his hair whipping across his face. The invisible wind continued to shove at him, feet slipping on the floor as he tried to lean into it. At first he glared at Deceit, shouting something that was stolen by the whirlwind around him. As he was pushed closer to the darkness at the edges of the room, fear started to replace anger. He dropped to all fours, scrabbling for a handhold where there was none to be found. 

He looked up and locked gazes with Roman for a moment, his eyes wide and frightened, but then the wind pushed him into the blackness and he was gone. 

Roman could breathe again, and it was a relief. He closed his eyes to savor the peaceful quiet. 

Deceit brushed his gloved hands together and fixed the angle of his hat. 

“Nothing happened,” he stated again, and this time nobody spoke up against him. There was nothing to argue. He nodded briskly, and then sank back into the darkness he had emerged from. 

“We missed our stop,” Logan said.

“Walking will be good for Thomas’s health,” Roman said. “We have tunes, it’s a nice day. Perfect for an adventure!” He noticed Patton leaving, but he and Logan were busy raking through Thomas’s dubious knowledge of the neighborhood to plan a route from the next stop. 


	3. Anxiety

The only time Roman and Anxiety willingly spent together was the night shift. They divided the late hours when Thomas hovered between dreams and waking, with Anxiety pacing through the same embarrassing moments and Roman cooking up vague daydreams for the morning to come.

It was hardly a peaceful partnership: Roman continually presented valid explanations for Thomas’s mistakes, which Anxiety dismissed as excuses, and Anxiety liked to poke holes in Roman’s plans for the future, which he called realism. Roman thought of it as being a _total drag._

Nevertheless, they had developed a system, sitting comfortably with their backs against each other as they shuffled through Thomas’s thoughts.

“Princey? You’ve been quiet,” said Anxiety, elbowing him in the side. Roman jumped and then smacked his arm for laughing at his reaction. 

“I’m just trying to forget that I’m with you,” he declared, resuming their usual position.

“Well, stop it. It’s your turn with Thomas, or else he’s never going to get to sleep, and he’ll be too tired to do well on his test tomorrow, and he’ll fail, and his teacher will know he’s an idiot, and-“

“I get your point, Worst Case Scenario,” Roman sighed, flicking a hand dismissively before realizing Anxiety couldn’t see it. “I’m working on it.”

He immersed himself in Thomas’s thoughts, jumbled and frenzied from Anxiety’s influence. Roman calmed them, soothed the panic, reminded Thomas that he was going to do well tomorrow. Once the thoughts had slowed to a manageable place, Roman began picking out moments from the day to set up a nice daydream to drift off to.

Thomas had watched a romcom three days ago, and vague ideas of romance were still alight in his dreams. Roman took the challenge to create the perfect date, a sweet fantasy of camaraderie and love. Here were eyes that Thomas would love to gaze into, here were lips he had been passingly tempted by, here the sunlight-streaked hair from a daydream long ago.

Piece by piece, Roman assembled a dream, then placed him in Thomas’s hopes for the years to come. Together, side by side, they danced into a future of careers and home and friends and laughter, standing ovations, good food, cuddle sessions.

Wait. Wait.

Wait.

Roman was not Logan.

Where Logic saw patterns, Creativity saw meaningless swirls of dots waiting to be connected. Where Logic created equations, Creativity invented exceptions. Roman’s talent was not adding up premises to a reasonable conclusion, but something about the way the dream was formed was…

The dots that formed Thomas’s idolized partner were made of aborted and denied half-dreams, spiraling together into a central image. There was something joining them, some pattern for Roman to discern, if only he could force logic onto the emotions that made those particular memories so bright. But that wasn’t how logic worked.

Fortunately, Roman was not Logan, and he could do what Logic couldn’t. He could follow the bright threads of desire and dream to the cut-off ends, take them further into the paths they had denied-

“What are you doing?” Anxiety snapped.

“I’m trying to-“ Roman attempted to focus, to pull a single memory out of the jumble, but Anxiety was suddenly beside him, scrambling through the same thoughts that Roman had focused on, his frantic attention tossing them faster than Roman could follow. “I’m trying to figure it out,” he confessed, giving up and sitting back on his heels to watch Anxiety undo all of his work. “There’s something happening with me. And with Thomas.”

“No,” Anxiety denied, then blinked and dropped the memories, pushing the heel of one palm against his forehead. “…yes,” he managed, and looked up to meet Roman’s eyes. “Something is wrong,” he said. “I can feel it.” He rested his other hand on his chest, flat and open.

“What is it?” Roman demanded, his eyes flickering from Anxiety’s face down to his hand, which was shaking slightly over his heart. “Anxiety, what is it?”

“I don’t-“ Anxiety faltered, and clenched his hand into his shirt, twisting the fabric around his knuckles. Roman reached out and wrapped his fingers around Anxiety’s wrist, holding tight, hoping that it provided comfort.

Anxiety allowed it for a moment, then he snapped back to his careless posture, sliding his hands back into the safety of his pockets. “I don’t know,” he said, rising to his feet. “I don’t want to know. We shouldn’t think about it.”

“But I want-“ Roman began, and Anxiety turned back to him. Roman could easily see the panic barely held in check underneath the hostile glare, and that was what silenced him.

“I said leave it alone, Princey! Who knows what you’ll find? Or what it could mean? What it could change?” Nameless panic thickened the air, pressing heavy against Roman’s chest. “Thomas doesn’t want to know, I don’t want to know, and it isn’t a problem as long as none of us know! Just… leave it _alone_.”

“Anxiety-“ Anxiety hissed at him and ran for the door, pulling his hood over his head as he left.

Roman remained kneeling on the floor, trying to breathe, trying to imagine a way forwards, out of the borrowed fear that flooded his veins, stopped his lungs. He needed answers, he needed stability, he needed a name for the emotion slowly rising to the surface.

 _Emotion_. Roman straightened, breathed in, and pushed himself to his feet.

He knew where he needed to go.


	4. Morality

The first thing one noticed upon stepping into Morality’s room was the warmth. Patton couldn’t get enough heat, and his room was always sweltering, piled with soft blankets.

“Roman?” Patton sat up, surprised. A wine glass was in his left hand, a leather-bound book open in his right. He vanished both of them as he took a closer look at Roman. “What’s wrong?”

“I-“ Roman found himself at a loss for words. “Anxiety told me that I shouldn’t keep looking. Logan said it was just a mistake. But it keeps happening, it won’t stop, and I know something is going on, because I feel- I feel…”

“C’mere,” Patton sighed, and stretched out his arms. Roman realized that he was crying, tears blurring his vision as he stumbled forwards, letting Patton pull him down into a hug.

 _Sometimes a Prince simply needs an embrace_ , he reminded himself. He ducked his head against Patton’s chest and tried to breathe through the tears and the overwhelming feelings pressing in. “I know,” Patton whispered, rubbing gentle circles over Roman’s back. “I know, kiddo. It’s okay.”

“Something- something really is wrong, isn’t it?” Patton shifted a hand up to Roman’s hair, combing his fingers through the soft strands.

“I’m afraid so,” he admitted.

“It’s me, right?” Roman closed his eyes as he said it out loud for the first time, after years of pushing it down, and pushing it down, and pushing it down. “There’s something wrong with me.”

“What?” Patton’s fingers stilled, and Roman felt him shift to look down at him. “Now why on earth would you think that?”

“I’m… I’m Thomas’s desire,” Roman pointed out. “And I… I want- I like- it’s wrong, I’m wrong. I’m hurting him.” Anger pounded in his head, _you’re hurting him_ , but how could he change himself?

He pushed free of Patton’s embrace, twisting his hands together violently enough that it burned. The furious energy wouldn’t back down, kept urging him to move, to _fight_. He threaded his hands through his hair and turned them into fists, pulling tight. The panic receded slightly, letting him breathe, the ache grounding him.

“Roman. Roman!” Patton’s hands were on Roman’s, trying to untangle them from his hair. He twisted away again, putting his knees up between them to keep Patton at bay.

This was something that he knew. Defence. Pain. Strategy. It was automatic, bringing up one foot to push Patton back as he tried to reach for Roman again. _Defend them._ He raked his nails across his scalp, trying to find space away from the jumbled rushing thoughts. _Change. Be different. Let them stop you. Listen. Stop. Just stop. Why can’t you stop?_

“Roman!” The voice was… scared?

Roman froze.

“Roman. Stop. Please.”

Slowly, he untangled his hands. He dropped them into his lap and opened his eyes, straightened up.

Patton was kneeling on the other end of the couch, his hand pressed against his chest, where Roman had kicked him back. His glasses were sliding down, and tears glinted on his cheeks. He wouldn’t meet Roman’s eyes, his shoulders slumped.

“It’s not you,” he said, and plucked a tissue out of thin air to blow his nose loudly. “I’m Thomas’s heart as well as his Morality.” When he made eye contact with Roman at last, his eyes were red with tears. “You really thought I didn’t know? It’s not just you, Roman. I always knew.”

“So it’s…” Roman knew that this meant something, but with adrenaline sill singing in his veins and his mind occupied with ways to make Patton stop crying, he couldn’t put it together.

“It’s Thomas,” Patton said, and managed a smile. “It’s just who we are.”

“You mean-”

Patton held out his arms, and Roman dove into the embrace, wrapping the other Side in his arms and holding him close.

“You’re not _wrong_ , kiddo. You never were. Something isn’t right, but it’s not us. Thomas is keeping the truth from himself, and none of us are going to be okay until we fix that.”

“Anxiety said that it would get worse.”

“Things must be bad if you’re taking advice from Anxiety,” Patton teased. “We’re parts of a whole, and we aren’t working together. That’s the real problem here.”

Roman pulled away to rub the tear-tracks from his cheeks, and when he looked up, Patton was smiling again, his eyes clear.

“What are we going to do?” He took Patton’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles.

“Well, I think that first we tell the others the truth, and then we’ll just have to continue gaily onward,” Patton said, and glanced at Roman expectantly.

It took Roman a full three seconds to put the joke together. “Patton, you-” He tried to find an objection, then collapsed into helpless laughter. When he looked up, Patton was grinning proudly, one hand pressed against his cheek.

The relief of sharing his fears with another person, of being understood and being acknowledged, sharpened his thoughts. “We’ll have to gather the others as soon as possible. Create an ambush, attack with facts. Logic and Anxiety can’t have time to prepare or they may find a defense.”

“We can bake a cake!” Patton suggested. “A rainbow layer cake!”

“There’s no time for that!” Roman sprang to his feet and put his hands on his hips. “We will call them immediately to a meeting.”

“Roman, um, it’s the middle of the night. Maybe we should wait for the morning?”

“A fair point,” Roman conceded, and held out one hand.

When Patton accepted it, Roman pulled him into a tango position, guiding him through a few steps before pushing him into a spin and then gently forcing him into a dip.

Patton allowed himself to tilt backwards, giggling and wrapping his arms around Roman’s neck.

“Thank you,” Roman told him, as he supported his weight carefully.

“Any time,” Patton grinned, and Roman gave him a swift kiss on the forehead, enjoying Patton’s squeak of surprise.

“Tomorrow!” he declared, and placed Patton back on his feet before striding towards the door. He had to plan. The morning’s conversation had to go perfectly.


	5. The Meeting

“This had better be good,” said Anxiety, lifting himself onto the kitchen counter and crossing his arms.

“I’m sure that they have an appropriate reason for calling us,” Logan said, a touch of danger in his voice as he looked from Roman to Patton expectantly. “And for such a rude awakening.”

“Roman, what did you do?” Patton asked, turning wide eyes to him.

“It was efficient!” Roman said defensively. “I simply… summoned them to the table?”

“Oh, gosh.” Patton hid his smile by pushing his hands through his hair. “Well, I’m glad that you’re all here, anyhow. Would anyone like some coffee?”

“How about an explanation?” Anxiety said, tilting his chin up.

“Right. Well, that’s, well.” Patton glanced back at Roman, his smile rigid. “We called you here today because we need to talk about something. And it’s to do with Roman and me, but also with Thomas.”

“Is this the lactose intolerance thing again? Because I keep telling you that it isn’t necessarily-“

“No,” Roman said, interrupting Logan. “No, it’s not that. It’s…” They should have rehearsed this more. He should have brought his cue cards. They should have used the slideshow. This was a mistake, this was a disaster, this was- anxiety.

His heart was pounding, his breath catching. Roman looked up and met Anxiety’s eyes. Anxiety looked at ease, lounging back on the counter and watching them, but his lips were pressed into a thin line. He couldn’t hold Roman’s gaze, dropping his eyes to the floor when he realized Roman was looking at him. 

“Have you guys ever wondered why Thomas never started, you know, thinking about dating? When most people did?” Patton said, as Roman continued to puzzle over why Anxiety’s overwhelming aura. On closer look, his hands were clenched into fists, almost hidden in the pulled-down sleeves of his dark hoodie.

“Certain people simple develop at a different rate.” Logan’s voice was neutral, the argument familiar. “This has been proven many times. It will happen eventually, when Thomas is ready.”

“No,” Patton said. “I, I don’t think that’s quite it, Logan. Actually, I-“

“Do you have to do this?” Anxiety jumped in, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at the floor as he spoke. “I mean, really. Do you have to? Can’t we just leave it unsaid?”

Patton faltered, obviously catching onto Anxiety’s distress. Roman stepped up beside him, resting a supportive hand on his back. “No,” he said. “This is important for all of us to acknowledge. We have to move forwards at some point. We can’t hide it from Thomas any longer.”

“Hide what? There’s nothing to hide.”

Roman spun to see Deceit leaning against the doorway, deliberately nonchalant.

“Yes, there-“ but there wasn’t, was there? Deceit was right, there was nothing to hide. But why did Roman feel angry, then? What Deceit said didn’t make sense, but Roman couldn’t remember _why_. “There isn’t?”

“Not at all!” Deceit came forwards to lean against the back of one the chairs, tapping one foot against the floor as he spoke. The rhythm was disjointed but somehow hypnotic, punctuating his words. “This conversation is simply unnecessary, there’s no need for anything to be _revealed_. After all, isn’t Thomas perfect just the way he is? How could you suggest that he needs to change?”

Roman glanced at the others, hoping someone else would have a response. Anxiety still had his eyes on the floor. Patton seemed frozen. And Logan was biting his lower lip, gaze distant.

All of them were silent. The silence did not feel natural.

“You’re right,” Roman granted. “Thomas is perfect, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get… better?” He knew that he didn’t sound sure of himself, and he waited for Deceit to pounce on the obvious weakness. Instead, Logan’s voice broke in, as cool and sure as ever.

“Thomas is not ‘perfect.’ No human being is. The very fact that we find ourselves now in argument is a signifier that Thomas is not unified. He never will be, that is part of the complexity of the human experience. Now, Deceit is a dealer in falsehoods, which can protect Thomas’s best interests, though that is admittedly rare.” He shot Deceit a distrustful look. “However, be as that may, unless we all understand what is being discussed, it is impossible to reach a decision.”

“Do you remember the boy?” Roman asked, and Logan’s eyebrows pressed together in confusion. “The one in the classroom. With the, the sunlight?” Roman had written a script for this. He had _practiced_. Why couldn’t he remember the words? Why did Anxiety have to drag him off-track and trap his thoughts in his racing heartbeat? Why was Patton still staring at Deceit as though he was seeing a ghost?

“I remember,” Logan said, and relief swept through Roman, almost strong enough to free him from Anxiety’s influence. Logan’s eyes widened in realization. “Are you saying that was not an isolated incident?”

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Roman hadn’t seen Deceit move, but suddenly the other Side was behind him, one arm thrown around his shoulders so that his hand pressed against Roman’s collarbones, a gentle threat masquerading as a gesture of friendship.

“He’s creativity. Fantasy. Are you really going to listen to him, Logan? Surely you know better than that. You knew better back then, and you know now. He makes things up, makes things big and _grand_ , that’s his function. There’s simply no need for these dramatics.”

“But I-“

Deceit shifted his hand up to press into Roman’s throat, cutting off his air. Roman tried to elbow him away, but Deceit caught his hand easily and twisted it behind his back. They were so close, pressed together. Roman could feel Deceit’s heartbeat, fluttering with Anxiety’s panic like the rest of them, but his hands were steady and his scales were cold against Roman’s cheek as he leaned in.

“Don’t interfere, my prince,” he breathed. “You want Thomas to live happily ever after, don’t you? And you know the two things you need for that. A quest, and a princess. Will you rob him of that?” Roman twisted against the hands on him, trying to kick the Side holding him, but Deceit sidestepped the attack and then let him go, shoving him forwards to stumble into the kitchen table. Roman caught himself against the edge and sucked in greedy lungfuls of air, his head spinning.

“We aren’t going to listen to you.”

Roman twisted to see Patton standing behind him, his eyes still fixed on Deceit, his hands balled into fists. “You want to lie to Thomas. You want us to lie to each other. That’s what you’ve always wanted. But it isn’t right, and it isn’t fair. Roman is hurting, and Thomas is hurting, and they’re going to hurt until we tell the truth.”

“The truth will only hurt more,” Deceit sneered, and shouldered Roman aside to stand in front of Patton. “You’re going to ruin them, Patton. Once Thomas knows, once the truth is known, people will find out, and they’ll reject you.”

Anxiety made a low sound of panic, and Patton looked over to check on him.

That was the opening Deceit needed to get one hand around Patton’s throat, pressing him back against the wall and lifting him so that his legs kicked uselessly at the air.

“Patton, Patton, how could you hurt them like this?” Deceit hissed, as Patton clawed ineffectually at his gloved hands. “As if your unnatural _feelings_ weren’t enough, now you want to bring the rest of them into it?”

“Get off of him!” Roman yelled, summoning his sword.

Deceit turned, dropping Patton to the ground in a crumpled heap.

“You won’t fight me,” he said.

“You are severely mistaken,” Roman said, and settled into a fighting stance. “I will protect my family.”

“Oh, Roman, you’re so brave,” Deceit said. Roman blinked, confused. Why was his enemy complimenting him? Deceit smiled and came closer, tucking his hands behind his back. “I’m very impressed by your love for your friends. I find it quite touching, actually.”

“Really?” Roman frowned at him.

“Roman! Move!”

Logan’s voice made him realize that his sword had dropped out of guard position, drifting back down to his side. Roman lifted it just in time to block a strike from Deceit’s newly summoned weapon, a delicate broadsword the same length as Roman’s favored katana. 

“You moron,” he cackled, and Roman growled, lashing out with a feint to the left and a quick slash to the right. Deceit blocked easily, not even flinching at the feint. Then he flicked his sword up, faster than should have been possible, and brought it down at Roman’s shoulder. Roman managed to deflect it and lunged forwards with a straight jab, but Deceit stepped back and parried, twirling his sword to knock Roman’s aside, leaving an opening for his own lunge.

Roman was forced to jump backwards, Deceit’s blade missing his stomach by bare inches. He regained his footing and waited for Deceit’s next attack, but he seemed content to bide his time, lazily spinning his sword as he kept his eyes on Roman.

Roman’s patience didn’t last long, and he came at Deceit with a double-handed swing, aiming for his sword-arm. Deceit stepped smoothly to the left and brought his sword around to spark off Roman’s. The katana hit the floor.

Roman rolled for it and came up with his back against the kitchen counter, sword up to block any attacks that might be coming.

Deceit was standing above him, but his sword was gone. In its place was a matte black pistol, pointing down at Roman’s head.

Deceit was grinning, his scales glinting in the kitchen lights. He knew that he’d won.

“What kind of an idiot brings a sword to-”

“WE LIKE BOYS!” Patton shouted, and everything froze.

“Roman likes their arms,” he continued. “And he likes their eyes. I like their smiles, and their voices, and that way they rub the back of their neck when they’re nervous. We like how their hair looks in the sun. Thomas doesn’t like girls, and he’s never going to like girls. Because he likes _boys_. And that’s not going to change, no matter how much we fight.”

Deceit turned away from Roman, who shifted his grip on his sword, glancing around to see Logan pressed against the wall and Anxiety curled on the counter beside the knife block, knees hugged to his chest.

“If we just try hard enough,” Deceit said. “If we try for long enough, he’ll like girls. Logic, you said it yourself. Boys can’t ‘like’ boys.”

“I was wrong,” Logan said. “I didn’t have the relevant data when I made that claim. There is a vibrant and thriving community that accepts many ways to love, be that homosexuality, or bisexuality, or so many other possibilities. There always has been, it has been a facet of human society and human experience since its very beginning.”

“But it’s wrong,” Deceit protested, his voice rising to a shout. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Falsehood!” Logan pushed off from the wall, fixing his glasses with sharp movements. “Sexuality varies between the individuals of many species. It is not unusual, nor unnatural, and as far as _morals_ are concerned, I believe the heart can and should be trusted.” He glanced at Patton, his expression softening for the barest moment before he turned back to Deceit. “Scientifically speaking, this is not an area that is well understood. That is true. But it does not follow that it doesn’t ‘make sense,’ merely that it is more complex than we are currently able to account for with our research methods. This is not an aspect of humanity that logic is overly involved in, but neither is it one that logic can reasonably attack. So try. Again.”

Logan leaned back against the wall, the knowledge that he had made his point clear in his smug expression, tinted with residual anger. 

Deceit scowled at him and turned. “Anxiety, you know what will happen. He’ll be an outcast. He’ll be hated. He’ll be rejected by everyone that he loves.”

Anxiety had put his hands over his ears the moment he was addressed, and sank deeper into his hoodie as Deceit spoke, shaking his head. “No,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, no, no.”

Deceit snarled and turned back towards Patton.

“This is your fault. _Emotions_.” He raised the hand that still held the gun, and pulled back the hammer. Roman managed to get a foot under himself, trying to stand but knowing he was going to be too late. Patton’s eyes widened: his arm was half-raised but Deceit was barely three feet away, his aim fixed on Patton’s forehead.

Then, a blur of movement. A horrible choking sound came from Deceit and he dropped the gun, which dissolved into nothingness before it reached the floor. He reached one hand behind him and felt behind him until he found the handle of the kitchen knife sticking out from the back of his neck.

He pulled it out, letting black blood run from the wound, dripping to the floor. Deceit stared at the knife, then turned to look at Anxiety, who was curled by the knife block with another blade ready in his hands, his eyes wide.

Deceit tried to speak, but only a gurgle emerged. He lurched forward towards Anxiety, and Roman pushed himself to his feet to stand between them, his sword in ready position.

Deceit stopped, backed away from them, and then he began to crumble. Black fabric fell away in strips, his gloves caved into themselves, and with the soft sound of sand hissing across linoleum, he disappeared, back to wherever the Dark Sides came from.

For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen was their breath. 

“Anxiety, you… you saved me,” Patton said.

Anxiety had one hand over his mouth, the other still white-knuckled on the knife he hadn’t thrown.

“Thank you!” Roman vanished his sword and turned fully to him. “Anxiety, you’re a hero!”

Anxiety looked up at him, then at Patton. After a long silence, he started to laugh. He hopped off the counter, showed Roman his middle finger, and then curled into himself as his laughter turned into strangled sobs. He sank down, back to his room, and the others let him go.

Once he was gone, the others could breathe. Roman rushed to Patton and threw his arms around him. Patton returned the hug shakily. “Come on, Logan, group hug,” he called over Roman’s shoulder. Roman heard Logan approach, and then he tucked himself under one of Patton’s arms and wrapped his arms around both of them stiffly.

Roman breathed in the stability, the community, the familiar smell of fresh baking that was Patton and the sharp smell of soap and disinfectant that was Logan. He drew them even closer, until he could hardly tell where one of them ended and the other began.

It was over.

Finally, they drew back, and Logan nodded at both of them.

“I support you,” he said formally. “Thank you. For coming forwards. Things admittedly make much more sense now. And Roman, I apologize for my earlier… error.”

“Neither of us knew,” Roman said. “Not truly your fault, although it is refreshing to hear you admit to a mistake.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Logan said drily, and sank back to his room.

Roman tangled his fingers into Patton’s and led him gently to the main room. He let himself fall onto the couch, pulling Patton down on top of him and letting him wiggle around for a few moments before he found a comfortable position. “We did it,” he said, as Patton rested his head against Roman’s chest.

“We did it,” he echoed softly, and they both closed their eyes.

It didn’t quite feel like a victory, too bittersweet to count as true success, but it felt like… something.

_A beginning_ , Roman thought, wrapping an arm around Patton’s chest. Patton rested his cheek against Roman’s bicep, his breathing slowly evening out as they both relaxed into sleep. _A new start._

–

(Two hours later, Thomas woke up with an imaginary glowing light bulb over his head, and one certainty in his mind: _Oh my god, I’m totally gay_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming out to yourself is… unimaginably difficult, sometimes. It can be a battle, it can be a vicious argument. Sometimes you get there a few times and manage to convince yourself out of it. Sometimes you have to cycle through five million labels until you find the one that feels right, and until then you’re stuck in the weird in-between space of not having words to talk about what you’re feeling.
> 
> Coming out to yourself is the first step towards self-acceptance, and it is so brave. I’m proud of everyone going through this.
> 
> I’m sorry that this story doesn’t have the fluffiest ending, but remember that if you want to see how this story really turns out, I would suggest watching Thomas’s Pride month videos. That is where this story ultimately leads: laughter and acceptance and community. I wish the same for everyone reading this, be you an ally or a part of the dozens of identities that makes up our wonderful rainbow of a community. I love you all.


End file.
